


A Sensible Match

by theunlivedlife



Category: Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen
Genre: Constructive Criticism Welcome, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:00:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21840169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theunlivedlife/pseuds/theunlivedlife
Summary: After Marianne's death and Edward's marriage to Lucy, Elinor and Colonel Brandon's friendship grows deeper in the face of tragedy and forms the groundwork for something more.
Relationships: Colonel Brandon/Elinor Dashwood
Comments: 27
Kudos: 154
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	A Sensible Match

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChronicBookworm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChronicBookworm/gifts).



“She’s gone.”

The pain that pronouncement produced in Elinor cannot be calculated. Of all her horrid imaginings, of all the speculations of the severity of Marianne’s illness, that it should come to this!

“Elinor!”

Dread seized Elinor. Her pain was significant but compared to that of a doting mother it was nothing. Please, could the heavens not give her a moment of peace to restore herself before subjecting her to this!

A gasp reverberated through the small guest chamber. There was a moment of silent hesitance where denial met the harsh reality before the eyes, before Mrs. Dashwood flew across the room to Marianne’s bedside. No words were spoken but her sobs could not be contained and echoed through the room, emptier for the presence of a body whose soul had recently departed, robbing the life and joy of those left within.

Elinor heard one more join them, whose heavy tread stopped at the doorway. If she had known the hopelessness of the endeavour, she would have not bid him return with her mother and spared him this. She raised her head in weary resignation. Colonel Brandon stood in the doorway, gaze affixed to the scene. His military bearing failed him, and he leaned against the door frame for support, grief too deep for weeping etched upon his face.

……………………………………………………………………………………

Colonel Brandon was of great comfort in the days that followed. To have such a friend to both mother and daughter! To soothe the pain of one and whose good judgment gave guidance to the other. How grateful Elinor was for it!

His grief too was felt, but more contained. A man who had experience so many losses in his life learned to relegate his suffering to one corner of his mind and continue on as propriety demanded. Lacking the role of an open lover, he was consigned to the silent private mourning of unrequited sentiment and publicly left with the more general sorrow of an esteemed family friend.

With his aid, it was only a matter of days for them to quit Cleaveland and retreat to the comfort and tortures of familiar surroundings. The funeral had been a solemn affair, devoid of their oldest friends in Suffolk and attended by the likes of Mrs. Jennings and Miss Steele.

Elinor’s mother hardly left her chamber after, and only when Colonel Brandon visited. Her spirits could not tolerate the fancies of Mrs. Jennings, leaving Elinor to bear the burden of well-wishers alone unless the Colonel was there. He was quite talented at diverting their more lively visitors from unseemly speculations of about Marianne’s death. The Colonel appeared to recognize the need for his presence and came most days, offering consolation where he could. After a fortnight, Elinor felt she must say something when her mother left the sitting room during their tete-a-tete to find Margaret.

“Colonel, we would not want you to neglect your other responsibilities if you need to go to Delaford.”

His hands paused from turning the page in his book. He searched her face and put it aside, before leaning towards her, hands steepled under his chin. “Miss Dashwood, have I been an imposition to your family during this time?”

“No, of course not. You have been our greatest consolation and champion.”

“Then, there is no charge greater or responsibility more worthwhile than being of use to friends in need.” He leaned back and resumed his book, leaving it his final word on the subject. Reluctantly, and in acknowledgment of how great his help was, she acquiesced and did not raise the subject again.

………………………………………………………………………………..

Some weeks later, Elinor could avoid it no longer and brought out her logbooks to rework their family budget in light of recent events. She retained her fortitude for most of it, but several strangled sobs left her when she reached the section for books and music.

“Miss Dashwood?”

Elinor turned to see Colonel Brandon had arrived, and hurriedly tried to dry her tears. He crossed the room to her, holding out a handkerchief. “Here. Allow me.”

Elinor disregarded the stab of pain as it brought to mind another gentleman, another handkerchief. “I was adjusting our budget and saw the allowance for books.” She went to hand back the handkerchief, but he shook his head and closed her hand around it. “Marianne always went over the allowance regardless of my protests.”

“Your mother does not handle the accounts?”

The amusing image of her mother’s inadequate attempts to restrain herself nearly managed to wretch her from her misery. “No, that is my responsibility I am afraid.”

“Along with managing the gardens, the household, and your sister’s education.” Elinor frowned, not meaning have slighted her mama. The Colonel continued before she could protest. “You never cease to astonish me, Miss Dashwood. I have rarely met a young lady so accomplished in practical matters.”

Elinor dropped her gaze in embarrassment but allowed herself some pride that a man of such responsibility as Colonel Brandon was impressed with her management. They had but little, but Elinor had maintained a reasonable upkeep, a nearly insurmountable proposition, and done so with little acknowledgment of the daunting nature of the challenge, instead facing constant complaints over her measures of economy from the very family members she was struggling to maintain.

Elinor looked back to him, giving a weary and still tearful smile. “I thank you for the compliment, Colonel Brandon.”

He smiled in return, eyes filled with warmth, and with it lines eased in aspect that had etched themselves deeper in the previous weeks. Elinor momentarily glimpsed the handsome young man he once was. His voice was equally warm with regard, “Never have I given one more earned.”

……………………………………..

Considering his near-constant presence at the cottage, it was little surprise that Colonel Brandon was there the day their man-servant returned from Exeter and made a most unwelcome communication as he waited the table.

"I suppose you know, ma'am, that Mr. Ferrars is married."

If there was any doubt the news was of some importance to the family, the instant cessation of movement, followed by both mother and youngest daughter turning to Elinor, would have confirmed it. Her pale countenance further established this a matter of great consequence to her. With no others at the table recovered enough to voice inquires, Brandon took the trouble on himself.

"Who told you that Mr. Ferrars was married?"

" _I see Mr. Ferrars myself,_ sir _, this morning in Exeter, and his lady too, Miss Steele as was. They was stopping in a chaise at the door of the New London Inn, as I went there with a message from Sally at the Park to her brother, who is one of the post-boys. I happened to look up as I went by the chaise, and so I see directly it was the youngest Miss Steele; so I took off my hat, and she knew me and called to me, and inquired after you, ma'am, and the young ladies, and bid me I should give her compliments and Mr. Ferrars's, their best compliments and service, and how sorry they was they had not time to come on and see you, but they was in a great hurry to go forwards, for they was going further down for a little while, but howsever, when they come back, they'd make sure to come and see you."_

"But how do you know that they are married?" Brandon may not have understood why it was important to his friends, but that it was was apparent.

“She told me sir. _She smiled, and said how she had changed her name since she was in these parts. She was always a very affable and free-spoken young lady, and very civil behaved. So, I made free to wish her joy_.”

Elinor could hear no more and left the room. She knew not what Colonel Brandon thought, but added to the loss of Marianne, the permanent separation from Edward was too much. She had scarce made it to her room before she released her stifled sobs.

………………………………………………….

“Colonel Brandon for you ma’am.”

Elinor looked up with a smile, putting aside her embroidery, and standing up to greet him. His smile was more hesitant than it had been of late, tinged with a hint of regretful melancholy, but he took her hand and pressed it. “Miss Dashwood. Am I to take it that your mother and Miss Margaret are out of the house today?”

“Yes, they have just gone to visit the village.”

“That is perhaps better for this conversation.” He looked down to her hand still resting in his, squeezing once more before releasing it. His pensive meditation resulted in slow steps that took him on a turn about the room. “Miss Dashwood, I am certain that you would have preferred I not be present the last week when you heard the news, which I have since learned, was rather distressing to you. I regret that I caused you that discomfort.”

“Colonel Brandon--”

“And that I was instrumental to its occurrence.” He met her gaze, halting her protest. There was a second pause as Elinor tried to think of a rebuttal. The Colonel waited, but Elinor could not form the words. “In light of recent revelations, what I asked of you two months past was senselessly cruel. Believe me, had I known, I never would have subjected you to it.”

“When I think back, how you tried to refuse the office, how in the very first moment of our acquaintance Mrs. Jennings teased you for your affections for a man whose name began with the letter F. How I did not later connect that conversation to Mr. Ferras as a personal friend of your family I do not know. I should have. I know your temperament, that affections would not lead you to abandon decorum, nor that mere heartache would not allow you to recuse yourself from duty. Instead, I heard of the situation and saw myself within it. I ignored reason that told me I knew nothing of either party and the barest sketches of the situation, and assumed I knew best how to resolve it. My wilful ignorance led me to cause you pain, and I beg your pardon for it.”

“Colonel Brandon,” she searched inside herself for a last drop of strength on this topic. “All you did was help a young couple, long beholden to each other, find their means in the world. My feelings on the matter should have no bearing on it.

“They have weight to me. You have suffered enough, Miss Dashwood, and I cannot bear to be the cause of more pain to you. I will not.”

Surprised by this line of thought, she met his gaze. “What do you mean?”

“As you know, Delaford is but four miles from Barton cottage. Given Miss Ste- Mrs. Ferras’ intimacy with Mrs. Jennings and the limitations of our society here, you can imagine we would all be quite thrown together.”

Elinor had reflected on it and dreaded it, but merely nodded.

“Miss Dashwood, even a lady as steadfast as yourself would find it difficult to overcome disappointment with its object constantly in your midst. Bearing this in mind, I have contacted an old friend of mine, part of the army with Sir John and I. I have persuaded him that Mr. Ferras would be a suitable candidate for his parish. His estate is in Plymouth, which I understand to be near Mrs. Ferras’ family. I am confident that they will find the offer more suitable to their situation.”

“Colonel, you need not have gone to the trouble—”

“It is what is best for everyone.” He took her hand again, pressing it and meeting her eyes with an earnest gaze. “Miss Dashwood, if any of us are to find solace and happiness, I would have it be you.”

Elinor smiled, in the comfort of relieved anxiety that had long been borne, affection blooming in her breast. “And I would have it be you, Colonel.”

……………………………………………………

With the return of pleasant weather, they had taken to roaming the country lanes. The Colonel was happy to indulge Margaret in stories of India, though half the time she ran off to climb trees.

Elinor watched her climb a tree happily, wondering how her family could have recovered as well as they had.

“I do not know what we would have done without you, Colonel.”

“It has been my pleasure. What little use I have been, I am happy to have been of service.”

“Little use, you say? My mother attends breakfast every morning anticipating your visits, regardless of whether you come or not. Margaret depends on you drawing me out so she can have a companion out of doors. You have quite bolstered and revived our family.”

He smiled at her. “But not yourself, Miss Dashwood?”

Her smile was warm with sincerity. “You have been a valued companion and of use to me most of all. I doubt my fortitude had I not had your compassion.”

He denied the latter, but allowed the compliment to stand, retaining a small smile for the rest of the evening, even while playing the pianoforte at her mother’s request.

…………………………………………………….

“When to the sessions of sweet silent thought

I summon up remembrance of things past,”

Brandon’s voice hesitated for a moment, almost as if he deliberated skipping this sonnet. He soldiered on.

“I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,

And with old woes new wail my dear time’s waste:

Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,

For precious friends hid in death’s dateless night,

And weep afresh love’s long since cancell’d woe”

He glanced at Elinor. Seeing her silent tears, he stopped and set the book aside, taking her hands in his.

“Marianne would have loved that sonnet. Doubtlessly did.”

Brandon’s smile was slightly wistful, but there all the same. “It does seem the sort of melancholy tone she favoured. We can go to the next.”

“If you wish. I enjoy poems, but lack the passion for them Marianne had.”

His smile became more genuine. “It is probably for the best, I am afraid. Poetry ensnares the mind and relegates it to its darkest imaginings and most desperate longings.”

“Then what do you read poetry for, Colonel?”

He thought about it for a moment. “I used to indulge myself in remembered longings and loss. Recently, I have found myself reading poems of a more whimsical nature, or poems with a more hopeful tone.”

Elinor could not make out his expression, and strong curiosity temporarily overcame her sense of propriety. “What do you hope for, Colonel?”

He captured her gaze and held it for several moments. Elinor felt hope herself, though she knew not exactly what for. “I hope for happiness, my dear Miss Dashwood.”

……………………………………………………

It had been several months and Colonel Brandon was as constant of a visitor as ever. Elinor began to dread the day that he would depart. How long could affection for a dead woman and friendship with her family, no matter how intimate or earnest, warrant such attention? She ignored the whisper inside her that perhaps it he came no longer for Marianne and her mother’s sake.

After a fortnight’s deliberation she dared to raise the subject while they were walking through the countryside, far from the prying ears of Margaret or romantizations of her mother.

“Colonel, I know you cared for my sister.”

“I did.” Brandon looked down, pausing for a moment before resuming his gait and continuing, “But recently I have wondered how much was due to her likeness to Eliza in the full of her youth. Both so passionate, so headstrong.”

“You don’t believe your regard for her was based on her own merits?”

“It was, and yet, it was not. Miss Marianne was but seventeen, her character still in formation. And with some aspects of her temperament, encouraged as they were—”

“My mother did rather indulge her.”

Brandon nodded. “Her first true disappointment of any kind would have tempered her. A disappointment such as she suffered by Willoughby could have permanently altered her character.”

Elinor thought of Marianne, relieved that it had grown less painful. “As you said, Marianne was always strong-willed, and for all that I wanted her to exhibit more restraint, she was sensible. I never had a doubt that with time and, as you say, experience, she would have been a lady to credit any family.”

“Of that I have no doubt, Miss Dashwood. But of late I have come to understand that perhaps I too have outgrown my youthful, consuming passions and am better suited to pursuing a regard with its foundations in mutual respect and the greatest esteem.” He stopped, turning to her and meeting her eyes seriously as he took her hand. “And that, perhaps, may grow to greater love than the former. What is your opinion of that, Miss Dashwood?”

She looked down at their entwined hands, feeling the emotion rise in her bosom. “I cannot play the pianoforte, nor am I headstrong or known for my passionate nature. Don’t they say music is the food of love?”

“The Bard also said, ‘But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, all losses are restored and sorrows end’. I am ready to end my sorrows and start my life anew, Miss Dashwood, and after these months together I cannot imagine any companion but you.”

Elinor smiled through her tears and nodded, kissing his hand.

……………………………………………………….

**Author's Note:**

> To my yuletide requester: Your comments on this work were very appreciated and I'm glad you liked it. Hope you are having a lovely holiday!  
> To everyone else: Thank you so much for the positive feedback. I really appreciate comments and kudos!  
> Thanks go to Icarus_Isambard for his beta reading and grammatical edits on this work.


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